


When We Were Kids...

by AllHallowsEve



Series: Wincest Colored Glasses [18]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angst, Canon-Typical Violence, Childhood Memories, Emotional pain, Episode: s01e18 Something Wicked, Guilt, Intense memories, John Winchester's A+ Parenting, Love, M/M, Pre-Slash, Self Loathing, Wincest - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-18
Updated: 2018-06-18
Packaged: 2019-05-25 00:22:20
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,022
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14965049
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AllHallowsEve/pseuds/AllHallowsEve
Summary: A hunt turns into a desperate need to make up for what Dean feels are past mistakes.  Dean's guilt weighs heavy between the two brothers as they try to work against an almost impervious monster.Episode 18 as seen through Wincest colored glasses.





	When We Were Kids...

**Author's Note:**

> This episode has always been one of my favorites because we get to see how difficult Dean's childhood was firsthand. It is no wonder the poor man is so screwed up.
> 
> As always this work is unbeta'd so please let me know if you see any mistakes.

Dean’s heart began to race and his pulse pounded hard in his temples, as he stared at the rotten wood in the shape of an elongated hand print on the window sill.  It was in a bedroom of the little girl, the newest victim in a string of children falling ill in the city where their father had sent them, with nothing more than coordinates to go on.

Now that Dean saw this clue, he knew exactly why his father had sent them to this town.  It was to fix something that Dean had screwed up as a young boy.  Dean remembered all too well the first time he had seen a photo that looked exactly like this handprint.  It had been on the table in the motel John had left the boys in 16 years earlier when his father went out on a hunt, for what they faced again now.  He had left Dean in charge of their safety in the motel, with repeated instructions of what to do in case of any trouble, with the number one rule, same as always, “Watch out for Sammy.”

Dean tried to leave the memory behind in the girl’s room, but guilt pulled at him the entire drive around to find a motel.  He tried to stick to the facts he knew from the first time their father faced a Shtriga.  He told Sam what he could, but Dean had only been 10 at the time and so his memory was a bit fuzzy about the details, of what made the monster tick.  He told Sam he thought it was kind of like a witch but didn’t remember much more than that.  Sam informed him that the thing wasn’t even mentioned in their father’s journal and he himself had never heard of it in any of the lore. 

Dean tried not to show the fear and self loathing he was feeling about having to face this monster again.  He tried to be cool asking his brother if he remembered any of what had happened back the first time their dad had faced it 16 or 17 years ago, not sure if he was relieved, or felt worse, when Sam said no.   Sam seemed skeptical when Dean told him this one in town could potentially be the same one their dad had faced all those years ago.  Asking if their Dad had gone after it, then why was it still breathing? 

The weight that was threatening to pull Dean under bore down on him as he informed his little brother that it had gotten away back then.  Sam asked him what else he remembered about it but Dean insisted he didn’t remember anything because he was just a kid.

The questioning and the remorse he felt from the past put Dean in a foul mood, as he walked into the office of the motel to get a room for the night.  A young boy came to the counter after Dean rang the bell for service.  He asked Dean if he wanted a king or two queens for the night, and after quickly glancing back outside to where Sam was leaning against Baby, Dean said two queens.  The boy’s gaze followed where Dean’s had been, then looked back at the man standing before him, giving him a good up and down, laughing derisively, before saying under his breath, “Yeah I bet.”

Dean immediately became defensive, worrying that somehow his desire for Sam had led the kid to that conclusion, but when he harshly said, “What’d you say?”

The kid masterfully deflected and answered only, “Nice car.”

A woman came through the door just in time, interrupting the panic Dean was feeling.  She took over for the boy whom she told to go give his brother some dinner.  The woman took his Mastercard, leaving Dean to watch through the doorway opening to the living area where the boy had retreated into.  The young boy poured a glass of milk for an even younger kid at the kitchen table. It caused Dean’s own memories to flood his mind with the hundreds of times he had done the same for Sam.

He remembered one time that he had lost his patience with Sam, around the same time as the Shtriga incident, because he had gone to all the trouble to fix Sam Spaghetti o’s only to find out that his little brother changed his mind and decided instead to ask him for Lucky Charms.  Dean had planned to eat them himself because there was only one bowl left and he hadn’t gotten to have any yet.

But when Sam looked at him, with his pitiful sad face, Dean couldn’t refuse him.  He slammed the box and a clean bowl down in front of Sam, who immediately dug into the box for the prize.  Dean’s huffed harshly, his anger threatening to rise further, until Sam held the toy out in front of him, his dimples on full display as he sweetly asked Dean, “Do you want the prize?”

Dean was pulled from the haze of the past as the woman handed him back his card.

The brothers launched into research mode immediately upon settling into their room.  Sam finally found some information about the Shtriga telling Dean he had been right, that it was some kind of witch, but one that fed off of “spiritus vitae,” meaning ‘breath of life’ or life force.  He said they were Albanian but legends about them dated back all the way to ancient Rome.

Sam continued to explain that “Shtrigas can feed off of anyone but that they prefer…”

Before he could finish, Dean stated flatly, “Children.”

Sam agreed and finished by saying that they were invulnerable to all weapons devised by God and man, but Dean refuted that.  He said if you catch her when she is feeding she was vulnerable to consecrated wrought iron.

Sam asked him how he knew that and Dean just cagily said their dad had told him.

Sam watched Dean as he got his own notebook from his army bag and began shuffling through it writing notations of some sort in it.  Sam knew something was off with Dean, had been since they first saw the handprint on the girl’s window but he couldn’t put his finger on what it might be.  They had worked cases involving kids before, so Sam didn’t think that was the difference, but he could tell that Dean was rattled, he was holding things back.

Nervous energy was flowing off his brother in spite of his attempts to deny anything going on.  Sam was starting to worry.  Dean wasn’t the most sharing guy under the best of circumstances, but he didn’t usually shut down about case details in this manner.  His feelings or deeper emotions, sure, Dean could be counted on to maintain an impenetrable wall around those most days, but this was different.  He didn’t usually let something bother him on a case like this. 

Sam wanted to get up off the bed he was occupying and walk over to his brother.  He wanted to massage his shoulders until the tension left him.  His body ached to hold Dean close, like he did back at the Benders’ house all those weeks ago. He didn’t realize he was staring at Dean so intently, until Dean looked up and caught him, saying “What?” defensively.

Sam held his brother’s gaze for a few beats, then turned his head, aiming his attention back at his computer screen, trying desperately not to blush.  His mind churned on what to say, managing only, “Nothing,” in response.

Sam started talking about the case again, about needing to find the thing first even if they could kill it.  He was so lost in thought, he didn’t realize he was moving or where his body was taking him until he found himself almost to where Dean stood hunched over his notes.  His body continued to move until he was behind him, occupying the area of the small kitchenette.  He was in the same space he had imagined being in only moments before, with the thought of reaching out for Dean still in the back of his mind.

Sam came to his senses and pivoted to the coffee pot mostly full from where Dean had just poured himself a cup.  They discussed the potential of where the Shtriga might be, and the fact that it usually assumed the visage of an older human woman when it wasn’t feeding. 

Dean showed Sam on the map where the hospital seemed to be located in the center of all the homes the sick kids were from, and that Dean remembered seeing an old woman in the hospital when they were there.

Dean was so close to Sam, they were barely more than a foot apart and Sam could smell Dean’s cologne from that distance.  He watched as Dean leaned against the counter, and looked up at him with his gorgeous green eyes.  Sam’s heart began to panic from the proximity, his cells longing for him to close the small distance and do something rash.

Instead he poured all the snark he could manage into his voice, saying “An old person, huh? In the hospital, whoo, better call the coast guard.”  He turned away before Dean could notice the fear hiding behind his eyes, of just how little self control Sam was managing at that moment.

Dean didn’t allow the mocking to veer him off target, saying that the woman had an inverted cross hanging on her wall.  It was enough to divert Sam’s full attention back to the case and lead both brothers back to the hospital.

This time they weren’t wearing the dapper clothes they had donned earlier, when playing the parts of the CDC, during their first visit in to the hospital.  Dean was disappointed that Sam didn’t feel it necessary to wear that disguise this time.  His brother had looked scrumptious in it earlier, so much so that Dean could barely keep his eyes off him, while he had stood talking to the check in nurse.  With that distraction fresh in his mind, Dean decided it was probably better that they dressed in street clothes from here on in.

The boys snuck into the old woman’s room, but after she scared the living shit out of them both, and asked Dean to fix her crucifix, they realized they were on the wrong scent.

They made their way back to the motel, Sam ribbing Dean hard about how scared he had been at the hospital.  As they were about to enter their room, Dean’s attention was caught by the boy that he had met in the motel office the night before.  Michael was sitting sadly on the bench out front.

The brothers walked over to him and bent down to be on his level.  Dean could tell he had been crying and asked him what was wrong.  The boy told him his brother had gotten pneumonia and that it was his fault for not looking out for him better.

Sam watched Dean in confusion, as his face morphed to concern.  Dean’s tone got very serious and his jaw went hard as he promised the young boy it was not his fault.  The boy’s words of “It’s my job to look after him,” made a chill run up Dean’s spine and a cold memory of fear of how he had felt the same sense of failure as a child, as this young boy plainly did at this very moment.

The boy’s mom came out of the door beside the group and began giving Michael orders of what to do while she was gone to the hospital.   At the boy’s panicked outcry of how he needed to see his brother, Dean stepped in, telling him that he was a big brother too and knew exactly how he felt.  But that he needed to cut his mom some slack right now.  She dropped her purse and Dean could tell she was a mess, so he insisted she allow him to drive her to the hospital.

Dean closed the vehicle door behind the woman, and took one last look at the young boy, before stepping to Sam and without being able to meet his gaze, whispered in a violent hushed tone, “We’re gonna kill this thing.  I want it dead, you hear me?”

Sam watched his brother drive off in the woman’s vehicle, feeling forlorn and confused.  It wasn’t his normal jealousy that tugged at his heart.  The woman was pretty enough, but she seemed not even remotely Dean’s concern.  Sam knew he was missing something and wanted desperately to break down Dean’s walls, in order to find out what it was.  But all he could do now was go to the library and dig into more research in hopes of finding anything that might help them figure out who the Shtriga might be masquerading as in between feeding on the kids of this town.

Sam called Dean to update him about the information he had gathered.  It seemed that every 15 or 20 years this thing would infiltrate a different town to ravage the children until none were left, with occurrences dating all the way back to late 1890s from what he could find.  While describing it to Dean, Sam found a photo in an old newspaper that dated back to 1893, but the doctor in the photo was the same doctor they had met in this town that was treating all the kids, the one standing in the same hospital room as Dean at that very moment.  As hard as it was for him to do, Dean let the man walk right out of the room.

They met back in the motel to regroup.  Sam couldn’t believe that Dean hadn’t drawn down on the man right there at the hospital.  When Dean’s ire was up, the way it had been during this entire case, Sam never knew what he was capable of, but patience and rational thought weren’t always on the top of his brother’s knee jerk reactions.

Dean’s tone changed from frustrated to determined, when he explained to Sam that he had the perfect idea of how to end this Shtriga for good.  He told his brother that they were going to use the young boy, Michael, as bait since he would be the next in line tonight for the thing to feed on, and that would give them a chance to kill it once and for all.

Sam freaked out.  He wasn’t going to allow Dean to use that young boy the way John had always used Dean as bait.  It upset Sam tremendously that Dean didn’t see the irony of it, the wrongness of it.  But his brother couldn’t hear anything but his own idea.  He was on a tear about it and refused to listen when Sam said he would absolutely not allow the child to be used that way.

Dean’s tone turned into rage saying “Dad did not send me here to walk away.”

Anger flared through Sam as well, mixed with confusion, as he responded, “Send _you_ here?  He didn’t send _you_ here, he sent _us_ here.”

Dean’s jaw tightened with the frustration he was feeling towards Sam, riding hard on the back of his own guilt.

“This isn’t about you, Sam.” He lashed out at his beloved brother before turning away and walking to the other side of the room, unable to face him when he confessed, “I’m the one that screwed up.  It’s my fault. There’s no telling how many kids have gotten hurt because of me,” Dean’s voice faltering at the end in shame.

Sam asked in bewilderment, “What are you saying Dean? How is it your fault?”

His brother stood staring away from Sam, his eyes pointed at the motel room door but not actually seeing it.  His shoulders hunched, Sam could tell by the stance that Dean was in agony, but knowing Dean would not share unless he made him.

Sam sighed, all his rage flew out of him at the sight and sound of his brother hurting.  He whispered, afraid of spooking him and making him run. “Dean.”

He softened his voice, and tried to put all the love he could into his tone, to somehow convince Dean to share with him.  “You’ve been hiding something from the get-go.”

Dean turned away from the front door, circling around to sit on one of the beds, still unable to face his brother or meet his gaze, feeling raw and strung out while listening to Sam explain all the ways in which he knew something was wrong with the holes in Dean’s story.

The compassion in Sam’s voice was worse than if he was flaying Dean alive. 

“Talk to me, man. Tell me what’s going on.”

Dean knew he didn’t deserve that sympathy in Sam’s voice.  The memory was making his soul feel raw, but he began to describe to Sam what had happened when their Dad had left them alone in Fort Douglas, Wisconsin, 16 years ago.  He explained how they had been stuck in the room for three days waiting on their dad.  He said Sam had been asleep and Dean was going stir crazy. 

Dean confessed that against their dad’s instructions, he decided to leave, just to go down the street to play a few rounds of video games but the time had gotten away from him.  When he got back to the motel, the bedroom door was closed and he knew something was wrong, he could hear a strange whispering sound coming from inside.

Dean described in detail, how he walked to the door, fear churning in the pit of his stomach, growing exponentially as he pushed the door aside and beheld the Shtriga poised over Sam, feeding off of his pale lifeless body.  Dean had reached down and grabbed up the sawed off shotgun his father had left, the sound from it cocking, catching the monster’s attention.  Fear froze him momentarily as he stared into the ugly things maw, before it growled at him ferociously.

Dean described how their father had come storming into the room at that moment, ordering him to get out of the way.   John had fired at the creature, but it hadn’t killed it, since Dean’s distraction had pulled it away from feeding.

Sam could practically feel the pain and shame and fear pouring from his brother, exactly what Dean had felt back then, as he described John hugging Sam and berating the older boy for leaving and putting Sam in danger.

Sam came over and sat down next to Dean on the bed, as close as he dared, but not nearly as close as he wanted.

Dean finished by saying that the monster had never resurfaced until now, and his father had never talked about it again, but described how John had looked at him differently, which he said felt worse.  Dean said sadly, almost numbly, that he didn’t blame John, he had given Dean an order and he didn’t listen. Dean’s voice was practically nothing but a low stuttering growl by the time he concluded, “I almost got your killed.”

Sam wanted desperately to ease Dean’s suffering.  He wanted to take hold of him and rock him and make his pain disappear.  All he could manage was to murmur, “You were just a kid.”

But that seemed to hurt Dean even more because he answered, “Don’t.” His voice shook as he said again, “don’t.”

Pain shot through Sam’s heart, watching his brother this way.  So he shook his head in acquiescence, not wanting to make it worse.

They went to Michael and asked him for his help.  He didn’t want to listen at first, but as they described what had attacked his brother, he told them he had seen it the night before and had assumed it was a nightmare.  Dean’s heart broke for the kid, but they needed his help.  At first Michael sent them away, too afraid to agree.

But after only a few moments, he showed up at their door and asked Dean if it would make his brother get better if they killed the monster.  Dean told him they weren’t sure.  The kid looked Dean in the eyes and asked him, as a big brother, if he would take care of his own little brother, also asking “You’d do anything for him?”

Sam couldn’t see Dean’s face, but listened as he whispered his answer to the kid intensely, “Yeah I would.”

Sam had to fight back tears, tears for the guilt Dean was feeling now, but more so for the 10 year old version of his brother that had to hold all this responsibility on his shoulders alone.  He hated himself for not knowing all this had happened all those years ago.  That this secret had weighed so heavily on Dean’s conscience and obviously John hadn’t let it go either, since he had sent Dean on this mission to redeem himself.  Sam had thought he had forgiven John for all he had put the brothers through, but he realized, his rage at his father, at least about how he treated Dean all this time, wasn’t gone, not by a long shot.

He had no time to cry for Dean, all that he could do to make this better was back his play to try to end the Shtriga once and for all.

They set up cameras with night vision capability in Michael’s room.  Sam watched from the other room as Dean went and sat on the side of the kid’s bed and described to him what was going to happen.  He used the same self assured voice Sam had heard all his life, when Dean talked Sam out of his own fears.  He had always been able to make Sam feel better when he was younger, and Sam’s adult heart filled with love and gratitude for the man in the next room. 

How many times had Dean promised Sam that he wouldn’t let anything bad happen to him, the same way he promised Michael now?  It had always filled Sam with a feeling of safety and security, in a way that nothing his own father had ever said managed to convey.

Sam’s heart churned over and over about Dean and what he had gone through, not just what John had put him through, but how much Dean had sacrificed over his short life, for no other reason than to take care of Sam.  He loved this man with all his heart and he never wanted to do anything that would hurt him.  He had to find a way to stay with Dean without allowing his own feelings to ruin their relationship.

As they sat side by side in the dark watching the video to ensure the child’s safety in the next room, Sam couldn’t take the guilt hurting his heart anymore.  He whispered quietly, “Hey Dean, I’m sorry.”

Dean’s eyes cut to his brother, an almost panicked tone to his voice as he asked, “For what?”

Sam could barely make eye contact with him as he said with a sigh, “You know, I’ve really given you a lot of crap for always following Dad’s orders, but I know why you do it.”

Dean couldn’t handle this.  His nerves were raw already from reliving the past so intensely throughout this case.  For Sam to be so kind to him now, especially in this way, when he didn’t deserve it, he feared it was going to break his barriers down and Dean had no clue what might come rolling out of his mouth if that happened. 

He did what he was best at, he hid. “Oh God, Kill me now.”

Dean hoped his snark and his turning away from his brother’s compassion filled eyes was distance enough to not allow Sam to view anything that hadn’t already been shown.

Sam chuckled in response. 

Before either of them could share anything more, Dean noticed the Shtriga’s boney hand manifest along the window in Michael’s room.  The brothers went to high alert waiting impatiently for the second that the monster began to feed on the young boy.

Once that happened they burst into the room, guns drawn.  Dean told the boy to duck and they lit the monster up with half of the consecrated iron rounds in each of their guns.   The thing collapsed onto the floor in a heap.  Dean moved slowly over to look at the thing to make sure it was dead, seeing that the bullets left open wounds all along its chest.  His attention turned to Sam momentarily and in that split second the Shtriga grabbed Dean around the throat. It threw him across the room, as Sam yelled “Dean!” in panic.

Before Sam could even get another round off, the thing knocked the gun out of his hand.  It threw Sam to the ground and was on him in a flash.  The Shtriga recognized Sam and was determined to finish the job it had failed to do 16 years earlier.  The thing’s bony hand reached out and grabbed Sam’s face, forcing his jaw open.  Sam flailed around for his gun, but it had fallen just out of reach.

The monster began sucking Sam’s life force from his body.  Dean regained consciousness and his first sight was of the horror that had frozen his ten year old self 16 years in the past.  Sam’s face began to shrink and shrivel and Dean yelled out at the thing so that it would pull its head up just enough for Dean to put a bullet in the middle of its forehead. 

Immediately Dean asked in concern, “You okay little brother?”

Sam breathed in gasps of air, the Shtriga had felt like an elephant on his chest, weighing him down to the point he could barely move.   Even now, with his life force returned to him, he couldn’t catch his breath.  Sam’s heartbeat only returned to normal, as he managed to get off the floor and stand shoulder to shoulder with his savior.  They both looked at the monster that had troubled Dean’s nightmares for more than a decade, and watched as a wisp of silvery essence left its body.

Dean put three more rounds into the corpse for good measure, causing Sam to jump in shock and turn a concerned eye in Dean’s direction.  More of the silvery wisps left the thing’s body as they stood silently over it.

Michael climbed out from under his bed and looked up at the brothers in relief.

The next morning the brothers watched as Michael’s mom came home to give him the good news that his little brother was miraculously all better and would be able to come home as early as tomorrow.  As the Winchesters watched them get into the car to and prepare to go to the hospital together, Sam said he was sorry that Michael would know from here on out that there were things out there in the dark. 

As Sam leaned against the Impala looking across the roof at Dean, still wearing remnants of his ordeal in the dark circles around his eyes, he whispered softly, “Sometimes I wish,”

Dean’s breath caught in his throat as he waited to hear what Sam was about to say.

Sam laughed harshly looking away from Dean, unable to meet his eyes as he finished the statement, “I wish I could have that kind of innocence.”

Sam’s eyes finally met Dean’s as silence fell between them like a dark chasm had just opened up across Baby’s hood.

Sam’s heart was heavy.  If they didn’t know monsters existed, they wouldn’t have grown up in each other’s back pockets learning to hunt, living outside the norms of society.  Maybe Sam wouldn’t have become the freak his was.  Surely their lifestyle was what made him the monster he was, made him want his brother sexually, the way he did, obsessively loving him, in a way no brother should. 

But in the instant after the thought formed, Sam knew it wasn’t true. Sam felt wrong down to his very soul. He knew it had nothing to do with how they were raised. 

No matter what their lives had been like, no matter what incarnation of path laid out ahead, he would love his brother as deeply and completely as he did in this moment, no matter where they came from or where they went, no matter their history, or their future, Dean was Sam’s everything, in this life as well as the next.  He was sure of it.  He just had to find a way to continue to keep Dean in the dark about it, somehow, for the rest of his life.

Dean watched the unknown story play out across Sam’s face.  He recognized pain, sadness, hurt from so many different sources and ached for all of it.  All that his little brother had gone through, wishing he could have the normal life Sam so desperately desired.  Wishing he didn’t love his brother so much that he selfishly wanted him by his side, needed him to just be able to breathe and get up in the morning.  Dean felt such guilt and determination to hide all that he wanted from Sam, all that he was, and the entire darkness swirling in his soul longing for his brother in the sick twisted way that made Dean who he was down to his core.

Dean took a moment to collect himself, turning to watch the mother and son drive away into a happy future.  He hung his head, nodding at what Sam had said. Before turning back to his beloved and saying the only truth he could share in that instant, “If it means anything, sometimes I wish you could, too.”

The brothers climbed into the car, the only home they had ever really known, and sped off into the future, attempting to leave nightmares from their childhood behind them, buried with the rotten robed ashy remains of the Shtriga.

**Author's Note:**

> I can't believe there are only a hand full of episodes left in the first season. I feel so blessed to have support from all of you on this journey and hope you are all still enjoying it as much as I am.
> 
> Thank you for all your comments and kudos and support!! It keeps me going!!


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